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skoosiepantsRodney had flowers on his head, a circlet of tiny blue blossoms, and he should’ve looked ridiculous, stupid even, but John thought he was kind of adorable. His face was flushed and his pupils were the size of shiny nickels and if he hadn’t been clasping Teyla’s hand, explaining with a slight slur in his babble that they were now happily, happily married, John would’ve grinned.
“You’re what?” John asked, brows furrowed in disbelief.
Teyla was mellow against his side, riding low and smiling sweet and vague. Her hair was tangled with ribbons, and she had the hand not in Rodney’s gripping his forearm, as if his body was the only thing keeping her upright.
“We are deeply in love,” she said, her voice thick with the native’s honey liquor. She licked her lips. “It is a blessing.”
“You’re what?” John repeated.
Rodney reached out and smoothed a heavy palm over John’s head. “Colonel,” he said, grinning.
“Rodney,” John drawled warningly, because someone had better explain what the hell was going on before he snapped.
“You’re. You.” His hand slid down to settle on the back of John’s neck, hooking him towards him. “You’re my very best friend.”
John braced his hands on Rodney’s chest, his chin nearly hitting Rodney’s shoulder, and the very, very drunk scientist whispered sloppily in his ear, “You can godfather our babies.”
John pushed back so hard Rodney staggered and dropped Teyla. She blinked up at them from the ground, bewildered, and John jabbed a finger at both of them. “There is absolutely no way you two are having babies.”
“The priestess assured us a fruitful union,” Teyla said, making no attempt to get up off her ass. She slumped over on her side a little and told the dirt, “I wish to name our first son John.”
“Over my dead body,” John growled, and Rodney cocked his head at him, looking sort of like a wet-eyed Labrador with a goofy, indulgent grin on his face.
He was swaying slightly, too, and he said, “I bet that’s what you tell all the boys,” and then stressed, “Boys,” and then puffed out his chest and said, “I’ll thank you not to insult my wife,” and sniggered.
John wanted to shoot someone. “Where’s Ronon?” he demanded sharply.
Teyla wiggled her fingers in the air and John cursed and strode over and grabbed the front of her vest, yanking her to her feet. She slipped her head forward onto his chest and said, “Ronon’s joining ceremony has only just begun.”
**
The day had started out well enough.
Real eggs, with a side of some kind of jerky masquerading as bacon. It was crunchy and tasty and went well with ketchup, and with a piping hot cup of coffee at his elbow, John was in a goddamn good mood.
Across from him, Rodney seemed torn between the eggs and a gigantic slice of iced yellow cake, leftover from the first Atlantis-hosted wedding in ten thousand years. One of the over-excitable botanists and a pretty, laconic Athosian girl. Chuck had read Oh, The Places You’ll Go.
And in the weirdest twist yet, Rodney had presided over the pair with John’s copy of War and Peace – he’d felt the need to hold something, he’d said, and god knew he certainly wasn’t going to scrounge up a voodoo bible text to chant - abridging the vows to “Do you? Do you? Great, you’re married, where’s the cake?” He’d been ordained by the strange, lonely world that was the internet before they’d left for another galaxy, claiming it’d be a great way to earn extra rations when everyone went crazy cut off from Earth, and decided to get hitched and start squeezing out babies in order to ‘preserve the stupidity of the human race.’
The ceremony and celebration had been on the mainland, where many Atlanteans were still sleeping off the extremely large quantity of Athosian rotgut that’d been consumed, which made John even happier, since the mess was nearly deserted. More coffee and jerky and eggs and ketchup for him.
Ronon hovered at Rodney’s side, poised to swoop in and grab whatever didn’t get into Rodney’s mouth fast enough.
“I’m more than willing to bite your hand if it comes anywhere near my plates,” Rodney snapped without glancing at him.
Ronon grunted, but leaned back in his seat, the expression on his face as close to petulant as the guy could get.
“Didn’t you spend the night on the mainland? How are you even conscious this morning?” Rodney demanded, tucking into his eggs, but keeping a hand cupped protectively around his cake.
Ronon shrugged, grinned wolfishly, then snagged one of John’s toast points.
John didn’t mind. They kind of tasted like grass.
And then Elizabeth’s voice was pinging urgently out of his comm. link, and the team hustled into her office for a quick briefing, and then they were dialing out to the planet that Major Lorne’s team had been scoping, since they’d gotten a frantic, vaguely nonsensical message from Dr. Parrish about Lieutenant Cadman and pollen and Lorne being kept in a pit before the frequency had been cut off with a yelp.
**
When they stumbled into the village square – John had to physically tow Telya, and Rodney was meandering behind them, humming Bosanova Baby under his breath – Ronon was in the middle of, apparently, marrying Dr. Parrish, with the botanist swung over his shoulder, limbs dangling. Which John didn’t think was a good idea, really, and he wondered when everyone had gone insane, and why John didn’t seem to be affected at all.
They’d stepped through the ‘gate to find a complacent, big-eyed Parrish who dreamily informed them that there was no trouble – no trouble at all! – and then he’d smiled widely up at Ronon and told him he had “the shoulders of a capable provider,” in a voice that just creeped John out.
He still hadn’t found Major Lorne or Lee or Cadman, and clearly leaving Teyla with Rodney and Ronon with Dr. Parrish had been a monumental mistake, let alone splitting up to search in the first place.
****
Don't worry, I'm still writing the Cinderella AU.
“You’re what?” John asked, brows furrowed in disbelief.
Teyla was mellow against his side, riding low and smiling sweet and vague. Her hair was tangled with ribbons, and she had the hand not in Rodney’s gripping his forearm, as if his body was the only thing keeping her upright.
“We are deeply in love,” she said, her voice thick with the native’s honey liquor. She licked her lips. “It is a blessing.”
“You’re what?” John repeated.
Rodney reached out and smoothed a heavy palm over John’s head. “Colonel,” he said, grinning.
“Rodney,” John drawled warningly, because someone had better explain what the hell was going on before he snapped.
“You’re. You.” His hand slid down to settle on the back of John’s neck, hooking him towards him. “You’re my very best friend.”
John braced his hands on Rodney’s chest, his chin nearly hitting Rodney’s shoulder, and the very, very drunk scientist whispered sloppily in his ear, “You can godfather our babies.”
John pushed back so hard Rodney staggered and dropped Teyla. She blinked up at them from the ground, bewildered, and John jabbed a finger at both of them. “There is absolutely no way you two are having babies.”
“The priestess assured us a fruitful union,” Teyla said, making no attempt to get up off her ass. She slumped over on her side a little and told the dirt, “I wish to name our first son John.”
“Over my dead body,” John growled, and Rodney cocked his head at him, looking sort of like a wet-eyed Labrador with a goofy, indulgent grin on his face.
He was swaying slightly, too, and he said, “I bet that’s what you tell all the boys,” and then stressed, “Boys,” and then puffed out his chest and said, “I’ll thank you not to insult my wife,” and sniggered.
John wanted to shoot someone. “Where’s Ronon?” he demanded sharply.
Teyla wiggled her fingers in the air and John cursed and strode over and grabbed the front of her vest, yanking her to her feet. She slipped her head forward onto his chest and said, “Ronon’s joining ceremony has only just begun.”
**
The day had started out well enough.
Real eggs, with a side of some kind of jerky masquerading as bacon. It was crunchy and tasty and went well with ketchup, and with a piping hot cup of coffee at his elbow, John was in a goddamn good mood.
Across from him, Rodney seemed torn between the eggs and a gigantic slice of iced yellow cake, leftover from the first Atlantis-hosted wedding in ten thousand years. One of the over-excitable botanists and a pretty, laconic Athosian girl. Chuck had read Oh, The Places You’ll Go.
And in the weirdest twist yet, Rodney had presided over the pair with John’s copy of War and Peace – he’d felt the need to hold something, he’d said, and god knew he certainly wasn’t going to scrounge up a voodoo bible text to chant - abridging the vows to “Do you? Do you? Great, you’re married, where’s the cake?” He’d been ordained by the strange, lonely world that was the internet before they’d left for another galaxy, claiming it’d be a great way to earn extra rations when everyone went crazy cut off from Earth, and decided to get hitched and start squeezing out babies in order to ‘preserve the stupidity of the human race.’
The ceremony and celebration had been on the mainland, where many Atlanteans were still sleeping off the extremely large quantity of Athosian rotgut that’d been consumed, which made John even happier, since the mess was nearly deserted. More coffee and jerky and eggs and ketchup for him.
Ronon hovered at Rodney’s side, poised to swoop in and grab whatever didn’t get into Rodney’s mouth fast enough.
“I’m more than willing to bite your hand if it comes anywhere near my plates,” Rodney snapped without glancing at him.
Ronon grunted, but leaned back in his seat, the expression on his face as close to petulant as the guy could get.
“Didn’t you spend the night on the mainland? How are you even conscious this morning?” Rodney demanded, tucking into his eggs, but keeping a hand cupped protectively around his cake.
Ronon shrugged, grinned wolfishly, then snagged one of John’s toast points.
John didn’t mind. They kind of tasted like grass.
And then Elizabeth’s voice was pinging urgently out of his comm. link, and the team hustled into her office for a quick briefing, and then they were dialing out to the planet that Major Lorne’s team had been scoping, since they’d gotten a frantic, vaguely nonsensical message from Dr. Parrish about Lieutenant Cadman and pollen and Lorne being kept in a pit before the frequency had been cut off with a yelp.
**
When they stumbled into the village square – John had to physically tow Telya, and Rodney was meandering behind them, humming Bosanova Baby under his breath – Ronon was in the middle of, apparently, marrying Dr. Parrish, with the botanist swung over his shoulder, limbs dangling. Which John didn’t think was a good idea, really, and he wondered when everyone had gone insane, and why John didn’t seem to be affected at all.
They’d stepped through the ‘gate to find a complacent, big-eyed Parrish who dreamily informed them that there was no trouble – no trouble at all! – and then he’d smiled widely up at Ronon and told him he had “the shoulders of a capable provider,” in a voice that just creeped John out.
He still hadn’t found Major Lorne or Lee or Cadman, and clearly leaving Teyla with Rodney and Ronon with Dr. Parrish had been a monumental mistake, let alone splitting up to search in the first place.
****
Don't worry, I'm still writing the Cinderella AU.
